


Trying

by MochaTears



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben's there but he's only mentioned, Gen, Good Brother Luther Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Luther tries, Luther wants to provide said hug, No need for Luther bashing, but he's not good at comfort, he does that enough himself here, no beta we die like men, posting this at 2 am I'm tired, probably a bit OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19016017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MochaTears/pseuds/MochaTears
Summary: Luther knew that he wasn't the first person to find out about Klaus' time in the mausoleum. He was probably the last, in fact.





	Trying

  
Luther knew that he wasn't the first person to find out about Klaus' time in the mausoleum. He was probably the last, in fact. He wasn't the only one who, at the time, hadn't realised what was truly going on in Klaus' 'Special Training' sessions. Like himself - though, he knew, they would both be loath to admit out loud that they'd ever had a similar thought in their lives - Number Two had thought that Number Four's extra training meant that their father cared for him more; was giving him special treatment. Allison hadn't understood the ways in which their powers could be physically, or mentally, or emotionally taxing yet - hers only leaving her voice hoarse. That would come later for her, long after she'd left the academy, and woven a life of tangled rumours. Five and Six, Luther wasn't sure about. Perhaps they'd just been too involved in the problems that their own powers had brought them to worry about Four's issues as well. They'd all been like that. Klaus' special training had been more frequent for the two months following Five's disappearance. Until Klaus started drowning himself in drugs. Luther stopped paying him any attention after that, and that was just another thing to add to the list of ways he'd failed his siblings. If he had a list for each of them, he thought that maybe Klaus and Vanya's would be the longest. Vanya had worried about Klaus, but only insomuch as she worried about them all. Because she'd understood even less than Allison that their powers could sometimes fuck them over. She understood now, he thought.

So yes, Luther knew that he was the last person Klaus was planning to tell about the extra way their father had tried to fuck him up. Because unlike Diego, who had cared about him enough to make sure he was safe after every single incident, Luther had ignored him, dismissed him, and told him that he was practically useless. He remembers the night before Klaus left. It'd just been him and Four left at that point - although Klaus was hardly home anyway, because he hated the house. Klaus had had nowhere else to go.

Klaus had wandered back in through the front door, he didn't look terribly intoxicated, but Luther had just been assuming that 'terribly intoxicated' was his permanent state by that point, and paid no mind to how he looked. He remembered glancing over at Klaus as the other boy wandered towards the stairs, and thinking about how pathetic he was being, to have let himself get addicted to drugs rather than face his power. Especially when dad was always putting so much extra time into helping him try. He remembered telling Klaus this. He remembered his brother's eyes turning to him, wide, with smudged eyeliner and old tear tracks down his face. Klaus had said nothing. He'd stopped, and then lurched back into motion; no longer a quiet wander, but now a limping rush.

Klaus had been gone again the next day, and he hadn't returned. Klaus had had nowhere else to go.

 

It was a on similar night that Luther once again watched Klaus amble into the house with a tired look on his face, an ever so slightly broken tinge to it, where sleep deprivation had dragged away his mask. Luther thought about how fragile he looked. Luther thought about how much of a part to play he'd had in Klaus' lack of emotional wellbeing. Luther didn't say anything as Klaus walked up the stairs.

Alison and Vanya had both turned in early, Diego was at his job - which he somehow hadn't lost yet, despite how little he'd actually been in during the last weeks. He hadn't seen Five all day, so he had no idea what their smallest brother was doing.

"Hey Klaus?" He called tentatively, and his brother turned resignedly to face him. Luther opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Abruptly, he was struck by the way Klaus was watching him. He seemed to be expecting to be berated. Indeed, Luther thought with mild dusgust at himself, his first thought was to ask if his brother was still sober. Klaus had been since the day before the apocalypse. It'd been almost three weeks, and Luther was horrified that his immediate thought was to accuse his brother of failure. "How are you doing, I haven't seen you since breakfast." He said instead, settling his face into an expression that he hoped communicated how much he cared for the answer.

Klaus looked surprised, and Luther hated himself just a little bit, "I'm - uh - I'm doing fine. Just tired." He replied; slowly, carefully. He shouldn't have to be careful.

"Oh. Uh... Get some rest, then." Luther told him lamely, hating how dismissive it sounded. Klaus seemed to think so too, because his expression seemed to crumple just a little bit. He nodded and continued on up the stairs.

Luther stared after the retreating form of his brother, sinking back into his chair and wishing he could help.

 

In the end, it was when he retreated upstairs to sleep two hours later that his wish came true. The hallway that their bedrooms lined was quiet and dark, save for the light spilling from Klaus' room; his door left open just a crack. For once, Luther could hear sound from within Four's room, and it made him shiver. Quiet, choked sobs seemed to echo through the silent hall. It was a terrible sound, Luther thought as he walked closer. The sound was muffled, as if Klaus was trying to silence himself. When Luther pushed the door open, he revealed just that. Klaus was backed into a corner, hands over his mouth and nose to silence his cries, distant eyes darting between figures that weren't there.

Without thinking, "Number Four." Was the first thing that came out of Luther's mouth, because he hadn't seen Klaus this terrified or sober since their number's were their only names. Since Klaus had begun shutting away his fear because it got him hurt.

To Luther's abject horror, Klaus' automatic response was to curl up further into himself with his arms over his head and say, "Please, I-I'll stop being afraid, please don't send me b-back there." His voice sounded shaky, and so, so broken. Luther had no idea what to do.

"Klaus," he corrected himself immediately, because he thought that this may have something to do with their father, and their father loathed to utter the names their mother had gifted them. Though he had no idea where 'there' was, Luther added, "Klaus, I won't send you there. I... I'd never send you there." His voice sounded uncertain to his own ears, but it had Klaus lifting his face to actually look at him.

"L-Luther!" He exclaimed, once again surprised that One would speak to him. They stared at each other, in silence for a good minute, only broken by Klaus' quiet sniffling. At least now, Luther thought, confusion seemed to have replaced most of the fear in Klaus' eyes. For now.

"What-." Luther paused, because 'what was that' didn't seem like the right question, or the most sensitive question. He thought about what little he knew about panic attacks and trauma - he had a bit of his own, sure, but _Number One_ wasn't supposed to mention that _again_ \- and finally settled on asking, "Where did you go?" In a tone that seemed far too unsure for the fearless leader Number One. In a tone that was all Luther, and very far out of his depth.

Klaus blinked, owlishly, and then seemed to look at something next to him. His usually polished mask lay in ragged remnants, his face an open battleground for his emotions. Luther was terrible with emotions. Even his own, he'd never quite managed to understand. He wanted to run. He didn't, because he was Number One. He may not have been the fearless leader, or even the fear _ful_ leader. But he was still Number One, and it was his job to protect his siblings. He'd failed to do so for so, so long, because he had thought that their father had had this same goal. Somehow twisted everything that their father had done to them until it resembled protection. And if their father had been protecting them, then so would _he_ if he just followed Reginald's lead.

Except that their father had been so far from protecting them, and Luther had just followed on like a ridiculously huge puppy. He'd failed to protect his siblings. He hated that he'd only realised how much he'd well and truly fucked up when Vanya had woken up. She'd cried, and clung to Allison, and tripped over her own apologies. And then she'd looked up, and her eyes had connected with Luther. And then there was terror in them, and she'd flinched back so hard that she'd almost hit her head on the wall. And he knew that she wasn't hugging Allison anymore, she was hugging Luther, and it felt like he was going to _kill_ her.

"You haven't left yet." Klaus pointed out quietly, breaking Luther from stewing in self hatred. Luther cringed, and then stepped inside and closed the door quietly. He wondered if blocking off the only exit to the room was a good idea, but the window was wide open, and Klaus had used to use that as an exit more than the door in their teenage years.

"You don't seem okay. I- I don't want to leave you alone." He replied, slowly. Klaus raised an eyebrow at him.

"When was the last time I seemed okay to you?" He asked sardonically, and then glared at something off to the right. "And when have you ever cared?" His gaze was back on Luther. Luther very much deserved that.

Klaus looked tired, and Luther felt the same. An exahstion that permeated his being. He wished that this could be easy. Living under Reginald had always been easy - just do as he was told, nothing more or less. Being Luther was exhausting, and despite everything that he now understood about what Reginald had done to them, he missed being Number One.

"I want," he began, slowly, unsurely. "To be your brother- not your- your... Your _colleague_. Or something. I want to listen." He told Klaus lamely. Klaus seemed to understand how difficult it was for Luther to vocalise his feelings. Perhaps because he had his own wall built up around his emotions. Luther had a nice neat box with crumbling walls, that images of Klaus, and Vanya, staring at him in terror, were currently assaulting.

Klaus motioned him over, and he followed his brother's directions, freezing in place when the other man held up a hand, palm flat. With difficulty, his brother pushed himself up, and then moved towards Luther. He clumsily stumbled around nothing, until he was leant on Luther. Klaus stared critically at his bed for a moment, before back slumping onto it. He motioned for Luther to sit by him. This was the longest Luther thought he'd heard Klaus be quiet for a long while. Luther sat down. They didn't fit very well, but Klaus didn't seem bothered, so Luther didn't allow himself to be either.

Klaus leant on Luther, cautiously, and Luther wondered why he did so at all. Luther had done nothing to deserve physical affection. Klaus had never seemed to care, though, not until Luther had gotten drunk. This was the first time Klaus had touched him since then.

"Ben says that you're trying, and he's proud, but he's still angry at you." Klaus mumbled. Luther fought back the urge to question the legitimacy of the statement. Even though Klaus hadn't been able to conjure their brother again since, they'd all seen him that night at the Icarus Theatre. Luther couldn't deny it any longer. He wasn't sure why he ever had, in all honesty, except that Reginald had always said that Klaus was lying.

"Ben's here?" Luther asked instead, and Klaus stilled for a moment. And then he sagged, and let out a long breath.

"Yeah." He replied, a small, tired smile graced his features. It seemed sincere, and Luther rejoiced. "He told me that I should talk to you..." He trailed off.

"About anything in particular?" Luther asked, when Klaus didn't keep talking. About why he was crying, Luther hoped, but he wouldn't push Klaus.

"I'm, like, super fucked up, you know?" Klaus asked quietly, not looking at Luther. Luther nodded mutely. "You're lucky, yeah, c-cause you can sorta... Like, control your strength, right? Like you always used to forget, and I'd hug you, and you'd bat me away, and it would hurt a lot. And I understood when you refused to touch anything that one time, because you'd accidentally hit Ben too hard, and he broke a rib. I understood what it felt like to be afraid of your power. But then you learnt to control it better, and you were back to being p-perfect Number One. And I couldn't control it. I could tell them to _go away_ all I wanted but they _w-wouldn't_." He stopped, swallowing. Luther tentatively rested a hand on the bed on Klaus' other side. Unsure, not quite touching him, but an attempt at comfort all the same.

"I didn't used to be afraid of the ghosties. They were l-loud, and they didn't like letting me sleep, but they were upset, and I wanted to make them feel better." And wasn't _that_ just so Klaus that it hurt, Luther thought. Constantly wanting to help people who only hurt him - people who never showed him any gratitude. Constantly wanting to help his siblings. "I tried to help! Talking to them, a-asking mom to see if their killer had been found yet, or if their daughter was okay, or if their wife remarried. They never s-said thank you, but I thought maybe they'd at least be happier. But... Then I wasn't doing enough for them a-anymore. I don't know what happened - maybe one of them had spread the word, or something. Like, yelled 'hey, here's a six year old we can torment until he does what we want!' But th-there just kept being more and more. And it was hard to sleep before, but now there wasn't an inch of my room that didn't have a screaming body in it, and they kept dripping blood on my floor, until I f-felt like I should be wading through it when I got out of bed every morning."

Luther remembered when they were younger, and Klaus had cleaned his room religiously. Left nothing on the floor, and refused to keep any of his belongings less than a metre off the ground. It had seemed out of character at the time, but he'd never bothered to wonder...

"That was about when Ol' Reggie decided to soundproof my room, because I was keeping all you up at night. The ghosties realised they c-could haunt my dreams too, see. Yell at me in there, or show me how they died in gruesome detail. Those dreams were 'specially fun. So I was screaming all through the n-night, or sometimes I was screaming because I couldn't get to sleep, and I thought maybe screaming louder than them would shut them up. E-even then, I wasn't properly afraid of them. At least, I don't think so. It's- it's muddled now? All of its a bit fuzzy, I guess. D-drugs, trauma, whichever. I-I don't know." He paused, glanced at something to his other side, squinted. "Yeah. Yeah, both, probably. A-anyway. Dad didn't... Didn't like that I was still afraid of the dead." He stopped, the end of his sentence jagged, to collect his thoughts. Luther's hand curled into a fist involuntarily.

"D-don't take this the wrong way, bro, but you're... Like, the l-last person I thought I'd be telling this to. J-just gimme a sec." Klaus mumbled. The 'last person I thought would care' went unsaid, but Luther heard it anyway. He cringed, a little, and Klaus patted his knee absently. He seemed surprised out of his thoughts momentarily, though, when Luther's hand finally curled loosely, gently, around his waist in an attempt at comfort. He relaxed a little more, and in turn, so did Luther. It was an agonising wait for Number One, before Klaus opened his mouth again.

"You remember when I had Special Training, right? W-with dad?" He glanced up at Luther, who nodded jerkily, "Right. Yeah, you and Diego always seemed upset when he'd cart me o-off. But, trust me! Y-you wouldn't have wanted that! Apparently isolation is a method of torture, you know?" He asked, and Luther's faced scrunched up, along with his insides. Klaus noticed immediately and tried to backtrack, "I-I mean! I, uh... Yeah. Not... Not you?" He tried, wincing, before steamrolling his own words, "Anyway, I guess he already had experience with doing that weekly, or whatever? And I guess mine wasn't... W-wasn't isolation. Not really. Too much yelling for that. Have you ever been inside a mausoleum?"

At Luther's shake of the head, Klaus nodded sagely, "N-no, no. Of course not! Dad used to chuck me in one a lot. Dead sorta... Congregate in 'em. Like how they congregate in this house, e-except... It's a smaller space. And darker. And there's n-nothing there to distract from the screaming, and the yelling, and the walls closing in as spirit upon spirit clamours to try and scratch your face off. A-and at least the ones in this place have a purpose, but the ones on there... Th-they weren't people anymore. Not just that they were dead, it's like... They were just anger, not about anything anymore, just pure rage directed at anything they could see. And I couldn't get out! I couldn't- I couldn't-!" There were tears at the corners of his eyes, and he was shaking.

"Klaus." Luther interrupted firmly, and his brother looked up, breaking off with wide eyes. Luther, carefully, carefully, wrapped both arms around his brother, "You never have to go back there." He murmured against Klaus' hair, rocking them both a bit as his spoke. Klaus was getting his shirt wet - apologised for it a few times. Luther didn't care. He said as much. Klaus quieted, just sniffling and hiccuping.

"Thanks for listening." He mumbled, not looking up from where his face was buried in Luther's shirt.

Luther hugged just a bit tighter, "First step towards becoming a less terrible brother." He replied, equally quiet. Klaus let a small laugh bubble out, and Luther considered it a victory. They stayed quiet, after that. Luther rocked his brother gently, until sniffles tapered off into quiet snores. Reluctantly, Luther set him into bed and tucked the blankets around him.

Then, he sat down next to the bed. He wasn't ready to leave Klaus' side quite yet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh I'm, like, reaaaally not happy with the end of this. I had so much steam at the start, but it really peetered out near the 2000 word mark. So yeah, sorry if it's a bit clunky in places. Regardless of that, though, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! ^^


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